


100 Kisses

by Amber_Angel



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Slurs, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:32:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Angel/pseuds/Amber_Angel
Summary: It started off as a stupid bribe from Rich. Fifty dollars if Jeremy could kiss Michael one hundred times in a span of two weeks.“I bet you'll chicken out by day three,” Rich had goaded, smug smirk fixed on his face. And, well, Jeremy didn't do well with taunting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anybody else have a fuckwad for a sibling? Yeah. This is me venting while getting out an idea that's been flying around my head for a while. 
> 
> Just a warning, tags are not fully updated, and updates may not be consistent, but I will do my best! 
> 
> Warning for homophobic language and mentions of emotional abuse. Stay safe.

     It started off as a stupid bribe from Rich. Fifty dollars if Jeremy could kiss Michael one hundred times in a span of two weeks. 

 

“I bet you'll chicken out by day three,” Rich had goaded, smug smirk fixed on his face. And, well, Jeremy didn't do well with taunting.

 

     “You're on,” he had declared, grinning as he stuck his hand out to shake. “Better get that fifty bucks together.”

 

     “I won't need to, tall-ass,” Rich had replied.

 

****

 

     They didn't even tell Michael about it until Jeremy plopped down next to him at lunch, took his friend's face in his hands, and leaned down to kiss the shorter boy's forehead. 

 

     “W-what the fuck- J-Jere, why-” Michael stammered, wide eyes darting back and forth as he tried to find a focus point that wasn't Jeremy's flushed face. He could feel his poor, gay soul screaming. 

 

     But Jeremy wasn't looking at him. Jeremy was looking at Rich, and their lips were moving- God he knew what Jeremy's lips feel like now- and Rich shook in what Michael figured must be laughter, but he couldn't be sure when he could barely even feel the ground beneath his feet. It was like he was floating, and Jeremy's hands were the only thing keeping him on the ground.

 

    “-chael. Michael? Hey, you okay?” Oh, Jeremy was looking at him again, he was speaking, and Michael was relieved to find that he could tune in long enough to catch the tail end of Jeremy's concern. 

 

    “Y-yeah, I'm fine, Jere.” Sweet Jesus, there had never been a worse time for his voice to crack. “You just took me by surprise. Um… can I ask-”  _ what the fuck just happened _ “-why exactly did you do that?”

 

    Jeremy shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Michael could only stare at him and try to regulate his breathing, extremely aware of the hands still cradling his face. 

 

    “Sorry about that. Rich and I have a bet-”

 

    “That I'm totally going to win!”

 

    “No, you're fucking  _ not _ ,” Jeremy shot back, grinning. “He bet fifty bucks that I couldn't kiss you one hundred times in two weeks. Normally, I wouldn't take it, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Rich's face when he loses.”

 

    “Ah, so sad for you then, Jeremiah, that you shall never see that opportunity come to fruition,” Rich commented, smirking at them. “All you'll see is my ass wagging in your face.”

 

    “Right, like you could find a stepladder tall enough!”

 

    Michael snickered at that, and the two of them dissolved into laughter, Jeremy's hands sinking to Michael's shoulders as they fell onto each other. Michael hooked an arm around Jeremy's waist. 

 

    “Oh, hardy har har,” Rich said, struggling to keep a stern face. “Laugh it up, boyfs.”

 

    They were still coming down from their giggling fit when the bell rang, and Michael jumped a little when he felt lips on his cheek.

 

    “S-sorry, I shouldn't have sprung t-that on you,” Jeremy stuttered, but fuck knows that Michael didn't really mind. Honestly, this bet sounded like a dream come true, as long as he didn't think about-

 

_     it's only temporary just two weeks and then you're right back to where you started right back to unrequited pining  _

 

    -his feelings and let them get in the way. 

 

    They all got up and walked together as far as they could  before different classes called for separation. Michael pretended that his heart didn't leap at the chaste parting kiss that Jeremy brushed onto his knuckles. 

 

****

 

    “So,” Jeremy began as he climbed into the passenger seat of Michael's car, “I think that if I can get in ten kisses per school day, I'll be able to met Rich's quota in plenty of time. Speaking of…”

 

    He leaned over the console, and Michael tried to hide how his breath hitched when Jeremy's lips pressed to his temple. Then it was over and the contact was gone. 

 

    “Four down,” Jeremy declared, sitting back. “Six to go.”

 

    “Heh, yeah. Pretty good plan,” Michael replied weakly, smirking like his heart wasn't throwing a temper tantrum worthy of a two year-old as he put the car into gear and rolled out of the student parking lot. “So, my place or yours?”

 

    “Hmm, well I think you still have my copy of Smash, so yours.”

 

    “Okay, but I'm warning you, my brother's home,” Michael said.

 

    “Gabriel?” Jeremy complained. “Seriously? Man, doesn't he have an apartment or something?”

 

    “Nah. Well, he had one last year, but he's living on campus this year, and so decided to terrorize us with a visit while he's on break.” 

 

    “That sucks.”

 

    “You're telling me. I'm the one who has to put up with him daily,” Michael groaned, rolling his eyes as they pulled into his driveway. “Just tuck tail and hustle to my room. Maybe we'll get lucky and avoid an encounter.”

 

    They were not lucky. 

 

    “Mom, is that you? ‘Cause we're out of corn nuts,” came in a drawl from the living room. Michael winced. 

 

    “It's just me and Jeremy, Gabriel,” he called, grabbing hold of Jeremy's sleeve to pull him quickly through the hall. 

 

    “Hey, hey, hold it, shorty.” 

 

    They froze in the doorway, Jeremy staring in at the man who looked nothing like his best friend. Sure, they shared the same dark hair, and their eyes had a similar hue, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Gabriel was tall with an athletic build, slight muscles that showed in the t-shirt that he wore. Michael was shorter, and his figure was more pudgy than fit, courtesy of all his years of gaming and neglecting exercise. And where Michael's eyes were soft and usually sparkling with mirth, his brother's were cold, the face around them hard and angular. 

 

    “Jeremy! I haven't seen you in, what, three years? Michael never seemed to want to bring you around when I was home,” Gabriel said, passing a pointed look to Michael, who shrugged uncomfortably. “Almost like he was ashamed of you or somethin’, huh?”

 

    Michael's wide eyes narrowed. Jeremy was familiar with that glare, oh, so unfortunately familiar. That was the look that was reserved for intense gaming sessions, timed K.O. rounds and blue shells of hell on the last stretch of road. He had been on the receiving end many times, and it never failed to send chills running down his spine. Even from a side view it was intimidating. 

 

    On Gabriel, it was not very effective. 

 

    His eyes travelled to Jeremy's shirtsleeve, and Michael's fingers that still grasped it tightly. His lips split in a cruel smirk, so different from Michael's easy grin. 

 

    “Well, Michael, leave him his clothes, would you? I mean, I know you're into him, but don't you think you should at least ask first? Consent is king.” 

 

   “What- no, you-” Michael spluttered, hands practically snapping back to his sides, leaving Jeremy to stumble at the sudden loss of forward force. 

 

    “Aw, aren't you going to catch your boyfriend? So rude, Mike.”

 

“Come on, Jeremy!” Michael's voice was high and reedy as he turned on his heel and made for the stairs. Jeremy avoided eye contact and followed, desperately trying to block out Gabriel's, “Use protection, loser!”

 

    “I hate him. I /hate/ him,” Michael fumed, practically throwing himself into his beanbag. He snatched his controller from its charger and then hurled Jeremy's at him before mashing the power button on his system. “He comes in here, eats our food, aggravates the dog, insults me, and expects free labor from my moms. Like, ‘oh, I'm your son. You love me so you'll do stuff for me while I sit on my lazy ass and emotionally abuse my brother. Sound good? Great!’” 

 

     “Michael-”

 

     “That, downstairs? That's not even some of the worst things he's said to me. Just yesterday, he asked me if I still thought I was a fag. I mean, honestly! And it's not always obvious things like that, either. It's the little things that just start to weigh. I get a slushie after school, come home, he says, ‘Jesus, Michael, don't you care at all about your body? That stuff is bad for you. It'll make you fat.’ Like, no shit, Sherlock, it's sugar. Besides, it's not like it's gonna make much of a difference, right? I'm already as pudgy as I'm gonna get. And he's always contradicting me, too. Every single thing I say, he has to add on to it, make me look stupid.”

 

     “Michael-”

 

     “And notice, Kiki wasn't in the room when we got in? She's hiding in my parent's bedroom. She hates him, but he can't seem to get that through his thick skull. He tries to pet her when she is sending literally every signal telling him to back the fuck off. And then, then, when she bites him, he threatens her, acts like it's her fault. And I tell you what, Jeremy, if he acts this shitty towards us, towards /me/, with my moms here to rein him in- not like they can do that much- I'd hate to see how he'd act towards his wife and kids, if he ever manages to find anyone stupid enough to marry him.”

 

     “Michael, I'm sorry. I mean, Jesus, you've talked about him before, but I forgot how horrible he is in reality after being spared from his presence for three years. I'm really grateful that you've kept me away from him, honestly,” Jeremy said, reaching over to pry one of Michael's clenching hands from his controller, bringing it up to his lips once, twice. 

 

     /Six down/, Michael can't help but think, a countdown steady even among his enraged thoughts. 

 

     “You're welcome,” he grumbled, moving to search through the games piled haphazardly on the floor when Jeremy stops him. 

 

     “And… you know you shouldn't listen to him, right? You're perfect just the way you are. I'm proud of you for being so open and out about your sexuality, because I know that Jersey isn't always the most accepting place. And I, uh, I-I kinda like your pudginess.”

 

     “What?” Michael asked, amused shock in his tone as Jeremy flushed bright red. 

 

     “It's cute! I mean, not like you're cute, not that you're not cute, but like, cute on you? I mean! I don't know why I thought this was a good idea,” Jeremy lamented, rocking forward on his knees to faceplant into Michael's beanbag. Michael laughed softly and carded a hand through Jeremy's hair. 

 

     “No, I get it, Jere. Thanks.” 

 

     “Cah, ll um ur sht.” Jeremy was trying to speak, but the beanbag swallowed most of the sentence. 

 

     “What?” Michael asked, now laughing full force as Jeremy lifted his head, face pink, hair in disarray. 

 

     “Uh, I said, p-pull up your shirt. I want to try something,” Jeremy repeated. Michael tensed. 

 

     “What?!”

 

     “Oh, shit, not like that!” Jeremy screeched, smacking himself in the forehead. “I'm sorry, it was just a stupid idea I had, I didn't think about how weird it would sound-”

 

     “Jeremy.”

 

     “Yeah?”

 

     “Shut up.”

 

     “Okay.”

 

     “Okay,” Michael echoed. “I-I trust you. But no weird shit, or I'm not giving you back your copy of Smash.” Hesitantly, he lifted the edge of his shirt and watched Jeremy slowly scoot closer, looking just about as nervous as he felt. He felt cold fingers touch his stomach, and was just about to pull away on principle: he never let people touch him with cold hands if he could help it. But then he felt Jeremy's lips touch his skin, and he relaxed as he realized what his friend was doing. 

 

    The contact only lasted a few seconds, and then Jeremy was pulling back, hands settling over Michael's to guide his hoodie back down. Michael was about to say something, but apparently Jeremy wasn't done. He shifted on the beanbag, swinging one leg over Michael's hips until he was essentially straddling him and leaned closer, apparently ignoring or oblivious to the furious red invading Michael's face. 

 

    “You're beautiful, Michael,” he whispered, then kissed both his cheeks.

 

    And of course that was when a certain bastard, fully parented, son of two very lovely ladies decided to barge in to announce dinner. 

 

    “Mike, dinner is- woah! Guys, you know I was just kidding right? Please tell me that you were not actually about to have gay sex in my house.”

 

    Michael shot Jeremy a half-grin, still a little shell-shocked, but never about to pass up this opportunity. 

 

    “Oh we totally were, right, Jere?” he asked, winking at his friend as he rolled his hips. Jeremy huffed out a breathy laugh and let his head fall onto Michael's shoulder, hiding in the hoodie. 

 

    “Gross. Michael, I really didn't need that visual,” was all Gabriel said before heading back downstairs. 

 

    “Jeremy Heere, I am ashamed. Have all your acting lessons been for naught? Wait until Christine hears!” Michael teased, sitting up with Jeremy still pressed into his shoulder, warm body a line of fire against his chest. 

 

    “Nooo, you can't tell Christine, she'll be so disappointed,” Jeremy moaned, turning his head so he could grin up at Michael. “She'll give me that look, you know the one I mean, where she crosses her arms and kind of pouts. It's like, the teenaged visual version of the ‘I'm not mad, just disappointed’ speech.”

 

    Michael laughed. 

 

    “True. Oh, man, now I'm definitely going to tell her,” he teased. “Come on, let's get downstairs. Are you staying for dinner?”

 

    “Micah, your brother thinks that we were either having sex, or about to. I don't think I can survive an entire dinner of him staring me down,” Jeremy reasoned. “Besides, I think my dad wants to do a bonding thing tonight.”

 

    “Okay, okay,” Michael grumbled. Jeremy rose, and then stuck out a hand to help Michael to his feet, which he took. “But know that just because you won't have to suffer doesn't mean that I'll get off so easy. My brother is going to be making aggressive Brokeback Mountain references at me for the rest of his break. This is going to be a long two weeks.”

 

    They both laughed, a little weaker this time in light of the truth of the statement, and made their way downstairs. Michael's moms waved at Jeremy from the kitchen, and he smiled back at them as Michael walked with him to the door. 

 

    “Alright, well, see you tomorrow,” Michael said, grinning. “Wish me luck with dinner.”

 

    “Good luck,” Jeremy murmured, punctuating his sentence with a tiny kiss to Michael's nose. “See you.” 

  
    And then he was bounding away down the driveway, pulling out his phone as he went. Michael watched him go and waiting for his heart to settle down and his face color to neutralize before he headed into the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have this chapter a day later than I'd have liked. 
> 
> I am musical trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my parents are leaving me alone with my fuckwad brother this weekend and that's part of the reason why this chapter was so late. I was torn between venting my anxiety and writing fluff to distract myself. 
> 
> Enjoy whatever the fuck this turned out to be.
> 
> Also, Michael's issues with touch are based solely off of me and I do not claim to be any sort of spokesperson.

    Michael ended up skipping school on the third day of the bet, reluctantly poking his head out of his blanket nest at noon to read the /sixteen/ texts that Jeremy had sent him.

 

**I didn't see you at your locker this morning, you ok?**

 

**Michael?**

 

**Did you get sick?**

 

**That would suck bc I still have to kiss you if I'm going to win this bet**

 

**Aw shit**

 

**I'm going to get sick too**

 

**Maybe I can ask Rich to postpone it or something?**

 

**Or maybe you just slept in**

 

**That would explain why you're not even**

 

**Reading any of**

 

**My**

 

**Texts**

 

**Mr**

 

**Mell**

 

**Well even if you are sick I'm going to come over after school, ok?**

 

**I want to make sure you're ok**

 

    Despite himself, Michael had to smile. Jeremy would always be there for him. He sat up and stretched, running a hand through his hair. He honestly hadn't planned on skipping school, but it was probably for the best. Last night was hell, and he needed the extra sleep anyway.

 

    He fired off a text to Jeremy before heading downstairs for some food, freezing on the bottom step when he heard crinkling coming from the kitchen. His brain was hazy after sleeping in, the warmth of his blankets had lulled him into a stupid sense of security. He had forgotten about Gabriel. 

 

    Slowly, Michael made his way back upstairs, wincing every time the wood creaked under his foot. Eventually, he made it back to his room. 

 

****

 

    "Yo, Mike your boyfriend’s here."   
  
    Michael almost tripped, running down the steps to get to Jeremy.    
  
    "Okay, thanks, we'll just be in my room," he started, reaching for Jeremy's hand to pull him away, but Gabriel clamped a hand onto his shoulder and he froze.    
  
    "Naw, you losers should watch this movie. Down here. With me." There was no hint of a question. It was a command. Michael squirmed out of his brother's grip, feeling clammy, jittering disgust at being touched by someone who wasn't his moms or Jeremy. It happened sometimes, people tapping his shoulder for attention, or in the case of Christine, actually grasping his chin to point his gaze in the right direction. Of course, after Michael explained to her his reservations with touch, Christine apologised and started simply shoving her phone into his line of sight when she wanted to show him something.    
  
    And it wasn't that he didn't like Christine, or that he was weirded out by those people tapping his shoulder, few though they were. It was just that touch was a privilege to him, something that he wouldn't grant to a stranger. Unknown or untrusted hands left a tingling aftereffect, a shadow of their touch, germs that he wanted to shake off. Jeremy, after almost twelve years, had more than earned that privilege.    
  
    Gabriel had not.    
  
    So he stepped away, to Jeremy's side.    
  
    "No, you don't want us ruining it for you. Me and Jere tend to talk a lot during movies. We've gotten kicked out of... I think two? theaters so far," Michael said, scrambling for an excuse.    
  
    "Doesn't matter. I've seen this movie more times than I can count. It's pretty lame, but I needed background noise so I could write my essay." Gabriel grabbed hold of Michael's arm, ignoring how his brother flinched, and dragged him into the living room, leaving Jeremy to follow.    
  
    Once released, Michael crammed himself onto the end of the couch, clutching the armrest like a lifeline. Jeremy silently sat down next to him and held out a hand, hidden from Gabriel's view. Michael took it gratefully, and managed to release some of the tension in his body as he glanced at the TV to see Les Miserables on the screen.    
  
    "At least we have good entertainment," he whispered to Jeremy, who chuckled and nodded.    
  
    "Do you still have the script memorised?"   
  
    "Oh, you'd better believe it, Jere."   
  
    "Hmm, what if I don't? How could you prove it?"   
  
    Michael grinned and turned his back to the screen, whispering the words to Jeremy as Marius sung them onscreen.    
  
    "A heart full of love/ a heart full of song/ I'm doing everything all wrong. Oh God, for shame/I do not even know your name/ dear Mademoiselle/ won't you say? Will you tell?"    
  
    Jeremy smiled at him and chimed back with Cosette's part.    
  
    "A heart full of love/ no fear, no regret."   
  
    "My name is Marius Pontmercy," Michael began to sing softly, winking.    
  
    "And mine's Cosette," Jeremy returned, blushing.    
  
    "Cosette! I don't know what to say!"   
  
    "Then make no sound!"   
  
    "I am lost." Michael's voice nearly gave out when Jeremy shifted closer, laying his head on Michael's shoulder.    
  
    "I am found." Jeremy didn't carry the note, as Cosette did onscreen. It died almost as soon as it left his throat.     
  
    Michael laughed softly.    
  
    "I guess we can't go any further, huh? We'd need a third for Eponine."    
  
    Jeremy nodded. His eyes looked distant, and Michael knew that he was pondering something.    
  
    "I still need to meet my quota for today," Jeremy said quietly, glancing over at Gabriel, apparently absorbed in his writing.    
  
    "Go ahead, I don't think he'll notice."    
  
    Again, Jeremy nodded, tilted his head and pressed three quick kisses to Michael's jaw. Then, he raised their entwined hands and kissed each of Michael's knuckles, lips soft and nice against the skin. On the last kiss, his face suddenly paled, and Michael knew what he would see when he looked up. Sure enough, Gabriel glared at them over his laptop screen.

 

    Jeremy lowered their hands and moved away from Michael, staring intently down at his feet until Gabriel looked away again. As soon as the hostile eyes were lowered, he moved back, slotting his side against Michael's. 

 

    “Well, the movie's still playing” Jeremy whispered to him. “And I still want my proof.”

 

    Michael faked an offended gasp. 

 

    “Jeremy, you still don't believe in my powers of memorization?”

 

    “You sang one song,” Jeremy replied. “That's a piece of cake to a theater kid.”

 

    “Well alright then.” Michael grinned and checked the screen to see where the movie was at. “Ah, everyone's favorite song.”

 

    “Eponine?”

 

    “Eponine.”

 

    The music started, and Michael whisper-sang along with Samantha Barks onscreen. 

 

    “On my own/ pretending he's beside me/ all alone/ I walk with him ‘till morning/ without him, I feel his arms around me-” Michael nearly faltered when Jeremy smirked and put his arms around Michael's waist. “-and when I lose my way I close my eyes/ and he has found me.” Michael's eyes fluttered shut. Sure, the song was overused, but it was good, and he loved to just let himself go and trust his mind to recite the right words. 

 

    “In the rain, the pavement shines like silver/ all the lights/ are misty in the river/ in the darkness/ the trees are full of starlight/ and all I see is him and me, forever and forever…” 

 

    Jeremy kissed his neck, probably the closest spot he could reach, and Michael could have jumped out of his skin. His brain short-circuited, his eyes flew open, and he forgot the words. He was left staring straight ahead, mouth working soundlessly. 

 

    “Michael?”

 

    “Mike, close your mouth, you're gonna catch flies,” came across the room from behind the laptop. Michael obeyed and nodded slightly to Jeremy to show that he was alright. 

 

    “Sorry. Spaced out a bit there,” he whispered. Jeremy shrugged and kissed him again. Michael shivered. Jeremy pulled away, and Michael shuddered at the cold spot he left as he pulled out his phone.

 

    “My dad wants me to come home,” Jeremy murmured, frowning. “He's taking this bonding thing to another level.”

 

    “Hey, that's okay,” Michael said. “It's not like we were going to do anything here, anyway.” 

 

    “But…”

 

    “No buts. I'm not into that kind of thing,” Michael teased, winking. “Hey, Gabriel, Jeremy's dad wants him to come home, I'm going to walk him out.” 

 

    There was a mildly agreeable grunt. 

 

    The boys stood and walked to the door. Jeremy paused in the doorway. 

 

    “See you tomorrow, Micah,” he said, leaning forward to kiss Michael's cheek before turning to leave. 

 

    “You already reached ten,” Michael blurted out stupidly. 

 

    “What?”

 

    “You already kissed me ten times today. That made eleven.”

    “Oh. Whoops.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know that this is really late, I'm sorry, and it's also kind of short, but hey? At least it's pretty fluffy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent the last three nights sleeping on my grandparent's couch and got maybe five hours of sleep altogether so...
> 
> *throws this chapter at you*
> 
> Have fun kids

   By Friday, Jeremy seemed to have adjusted himself to kissing Michael. He greeted him in the morning with a peck on the cheek, and pressed his lips to Michael's hand every time they parted. Everyone else had come to accept it as something that just happened, and Michael had gotten used to, “Aw, you two are so cute together!” He had given up trying to explain the situation and started accepting the compliment, even though his heart thumped painfully every time Jeremy kissed him, knowing that every kiss brought him steadily closer to the day that he would be left wanting. 

 

    That's what he was thinking about at lunch, moping with his head in his arms, when Jeremy sat down beside him and tapped his shoulder. Michael lifted his head, and Jeremy kissed his cheek with a soft smile. Michael tried not to think about how soft Jeremy's lips felt, and how much he would miss feeling them. 

 

    “Hey, Micah,” Jeremy said quietly, and Michael sighed contentedly as Jeremy's hand dragged through his hair, the rhythmic motion gentle and soothing. Jeremy always seemed to know when he wasn't feeling up to scratch, and how to help. 

 

    “Hey, Jere,” he murmured back, letting his eyes slide closed. “How was your morning?”

 

    Jeremy's hand left his hair, and Michael held back the complaint that he had no right to, anyway. Jeremy had no obligation to provide comfort. 

 

    “It was pretty shitty, actually,” Jeremy said, and Michael cracked his eyes open. “We had a pop quiz in Physics. I'm sure I failed.”

 

    “Aw, don't feel so bad. My grade in Physics is a C, and I know for a fact that yours is higher, so it's not like you're suddenly flunking the class,” Michael replied, reaching over to take one of Jeremy's hands. He pulled it to him and started fiddling with the fingers, absently pressing the knuckles to his lips. 

 

    “Y-you know, I just realized that I've been kissing you all week,” Jeremy began, his face turning red, “but I think this is the first time that /you've/ kissed /me/.” 

 

    Michael turned red at that too, letting go of Jeremy's hand. 

 

    “Uh… sorry?” 

 

    “No, it's not a bad thing! Not that, like, I wanted it or anything, I just- ugh,” Jeremy groaned. 

 

    Rich laughed from across the table.

 

    “Having trouble fending off those gay thoughts, Jere-bear?” he teased, smirking. 

 

    “No!” Jeremy shrieked voice rising in pitch. Michael chuckled quietly, shifting closer. 

 

    “Watch out, Jere, it's your gay thoughts coming to get you,” Michael said, winking and pursing his lips at his friend. The table shook as Rich pounded on it, trying and failing to laugh and cheer at the same time. Jeremy choked on his milk, and his entire face flushed pink as he stared at Michael. Suddenly he swallowed and leaned forward in one motion, so quickly that Michael didn't have time to be startled before Jeremy was kissing the corner of his mouth, and his heart was damn near exploding with every beat. 

 

    “Damn, Jeremy, get it!” Rich whooped, and Jeremy backed away, stuck out his middle finger, and went back to his lunch. 

 

****

 

    By the time Jeremy clambered into Michael's car, they had already reached a total of seven kisses for the day, and a grand total of forty-eight. And as Michael drove the familiar route to Jeremy's house, he really didn't know how he had survived almost a full week. There had been too many times, feeling Jeremy's lips on his cheek, that he had been tempted to turn and connect their lips instead. 

 

    Turning into Jeremy's driveway, he had to sigh as he stopped the car, looking over subtly at the beautiful boy sitting in the passenger seat as he gathered his stuff and opened his door. Jeremy glanced back at him and laughed awkwardly. 

 

    “What? D-do I have something on my face?”

 

    /No, I'm just really, really gay/, Michael thought helplessly. 

 

    “Yeah, it's called acne,” he teased instead, smirking. To his surprise, Jeremy frowned and rubbed his cheek with one hand. 

 

    “I know, it looks really bad. I swear, I wash my face, I don't know why it keeps cropping up. It's embarrassing,” Jeremy mumbled.

 

    “I-I never said it looked bad,” Michael blurted, fumbling. Jeremy froze, halfway out of the car, and looked back at Michael with a red face and wide eyes. 

 

    “Oh. Well, um, thanks?” 

 

    Michael nodded and stepped out of his car, slamming the door shut behind him. He should really just stay quiet now, he figured. Keep his mouth shut and keep out of trouble. 

    “Really, though, Jere, you're really… really pretty.”

 

    Oh god. So much for that plan.

 

    “R-really?” Jeremy asked, and wow, this was not how Michael had imagined this conversation going. 

 

    “Yeah-” his voice cracked “-yeah, you are, now let's go play some video games, huh?”

 

    “Okay, yeah…,” Jeremy replied, sighing. He rounded the car and kissed Michael's forehead quickly before turning to let them into the house. 

 

****

 

    Later, laying on the pad of blankets and pillows that Jeremy had set up for him, Michael frowned up at his friend's sleeping figure on the bed and wished, not for the first time, that he could read minds, so he could understand what the fuck was going on in Jeremy's. The boy was an enigma, even after twelve years. Michael /knew/ that freshman year, Jeremy had been crushing hard on one Christine Canigula. Seriously, he had spent the entire year gushing and mooning over how perfect and pretty and talented the girl was. Then, Christine had come out as aro/ace, and Jeremy seemed to have accepted that and moved on, no problem. They had incorporated Christine into their duo, and then eventually Rich, Jake, Chloe, Brooke, and Jenna, and Michael had voiced his disbelief to Jeremy about how large their group had gotten when just a year ago they were still the losers that hung out and smoked weed alone in his basement. 

 

    Jeremy hadn't shown any interest in anyone since. 

 

    But then, this dare… he accepted it pretty quickly for a kid who blushed every time he saw a couple kiss in the hall. He had once shrieked just because Chloe tried to hold his hand. It was a little difficult to believe that that was the same Jeremy who had, for a week now, been kissing Michael with every opportunity he got. 

 

    When the figure on the bed moved, Michael was jerked out of his thoughts, and he froze. 

 

    /Abort, abort, abort/

 

    Jeremy shifted, sat up, and Michael could have sworn that he saw his shoulders sag for just a moment. And then his friend was looking over at him, and even though Michael knew it was dark, and Jeremy's eyes were probably not used to the lack of light yet, he screwed his eyes shut and tried to even out his breathing.

 

    The bed creaked, and when Michael cracked his eyes open, he saw Jeremy's feet shifting almost nervously, then taking careful steps until they moved out of his line of sight. 

  
    “Michael? Are you awake?” came in a soft whisper from behind him, and when he didn't answer, he heard a tiny, “Okay,” and then the right side of his blanket was being lifted up, and he felt warmth press up against his back, and short, almost panicky breaths puffing against the back of his neck, slowly evening out. An arm wrapped itself loosely around him, and he was sure that his stupid, racing heart was going to give him away, but when he let himself relax into the hold, Jeremy just sighed, and then there was a shaky kiss against the back of his neck, and he almost, almost gave himself away, but he held in the squeak that wanted to ruin his life and laid there until he heard Jeremy's small, adorable, snuffling snores.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some violence in this chapter. Be safe.

   Jeremy was still lying next to him when Michael woke up the next morning, arms still slung over Michael's waist, face pressed to his back. He felt like a little kid’s favorite teddy bear. 

 

    Slowly, trying not to disturb Jeremy, he rolled over in his friend's hold. They were so close that their noses bumped together, but Michael started to regret his decision when Jeremy shifted, mumbling something about Mountain Dew, and tried to pull him closer. Well, their legs were already tangled together, and the rest of their bodies were flush against each other. So, when Jeremy moved, one of hands shifted up and tangled in Michael's hair, pushing his head closer. 

 

    Michael let out a very undignified squeak, wide-eyed, but Jeremy moved at the last second, scooting so that his head pressed up against Michael's chest. Michael wasn't sure if he felt relieved, or if he wanted to cry, but he had to settle on something else when he put his own arms around Jeremy and started playing with his short curls. He wasn't exactly sure how to name the emotion, but it swelled in his chest like he imagined that love would do. 

 

    Jeremy started shifting again, hand tightening for just a second in Michael's hair, and he winced at the sharp tug, figuring it was probably a bad dream. He carded a hand through Jeremy's hair gently, staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him as he reevaluated his life choices. When Jeremy's movements didn't let up he frowned and looked down and- shit… 

 

    Soft blue eyes stared back at him, sitting wide above an open mouth. 

 

    “Jeremy!” Shit, shit, shit. “Um. I would say I could explain, but… I don't actually know how this happened?”

 

    Jeremy winced and ducked his head into Michael's chest, then flinched away. 

 

    “I, uh, I know,” Jeremy mumbled. “I'm sorry, I know this is weird, but I-I had a b-bad dream, and you were /there/ and, and I just-” His breathing was getting heavier, and Michael frowned. 

 

    “Hey, Jere, that's okay,” he said quietly. “I get it.” He threaded his fingers back into Jeremy's hair and gently guided his friend's head back to his chest. Jeremy let him, and snuggled gratefully into his torso. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

    “I… not really. I don't actually remember too much of it now, anyway. All I know is that it had something to do with Mountain Dew, and… and you got hurt.” Jeremy's arms tightened slightly around Michael's waist. 

 

    “Well, I don't know what kind of acid was in that dream soda, but I'm fine. See?” 

 

    Jeremy nodded against Michael's chest, and Michael wished that he hadn't slept in his hoodie. The combined heat of Jeremy's body and his own flaming cheeks made the soft cloth feel more like an oven. 

 

    “Jeremy,” he wheedled. “I don't think you're very convinced. Look at me, buddy.” 

 

    There was a moment of hesitation that made him nervous, but Jeremy raised his head and met Michael's eyes. Michael elected to ignore the wetness that he saw there, smiling instead. Jeremy smiled weakly back. 

 

    “See, I'm as healthy as ever. Not a scratch on me.” 

 

    Jeremy shook his head.

 

    “No, it wasn't… it wasn't physical. It was…” his voice gave out, and he just raised a hand and tapped Michael's forehead instead. 

 

    “Mental, huh?” Jeremy nodded. “What, was I crying in a bathroom or something?”

 

    A pause. 

 

    Jeremy nodded. 

 

    “Oh. Okay, Jere, Jeremy, look, I'm fine. Physically /and/ mentally. And if I do have some sort of breakdown, it's not going to be in a bathroom of any sort. Why would I cry in the bathroom when I could cry in my bed, right?” 

 

    “Right,” Jeremy said quietly. “Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, I know it was just a stupid dream, but it /felt/ real.” 

 

    “It's okay, I get it. Hey, maybe you'll feel better after some food?” 

 

    “Yeah, I guess,” Jeremy agreed, pulling away from Michael almost reluctantly. He stood up and shivered. Michael stood too and put an arm around his friend's shoulder. They walked down to the kitchen, and Michael demanded that Jeremy sit while he made waffles. 

 

    “But it's my house,” Jeremy protested, “and you're the guest. I should be making breakfast.”

 

    “Okay, firstly, Jere, I'm pretty sure I stopped being a ‘guest’ about three years ago. Secondly, you look exhausted. I'm not making you do physical shit. And thirdly, you always burn the waffles.”

 

    “I do not!” 

 

    “Oh, yes you do,” Michael replied, grinning. “So shut up and eat your nice, buttery, not burned breakfast.”

 

    Jeremy stuck out his tongue, but he poured syrup on the waffles and started eating anyway. 

 

****

 

    After breakfast, Michael said he had to go.

    “I got a text from Mom. She wants me to check on Kiki,” he said as he gathered his stuff. Jeremy nodded and walked with him to the door. Michael gave a little wave and was about to turn away when Jeremy leaned forward and kissed his cheek, lingering a lot longer than usual. 

 

    “Um,” Michael said intelligently. 

 

    “B-bye, “ Jeremy said for him, grinning sheepishly. 

 

    “Yeah, bye.” He turned and made his way to his car, hearing the door click shut behind him. 

 

****

 

    “Mom? Ina? I'm home,” Michael called, stepping into the hallway. He was pretty sure that his moms were out, because none of the rooms were lit, and he could hear Kiki scratching at the bedroom door to be let out. 

 

    “Okay, Kiki, I'm coming, hang on,” he said, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder. He opened the door, and Kiki shot out. “C'mon, girl. C'mon, outside.” He let her out into the yard and then retreated to the kitchen, sighing as he turned the light on. 

 

    Ten minutes later, and there was more scratching. Michael opened the front door, and the dog shot back into his parent's bedroom. 

 

    She only ever hid when Gabriel came around, just to avoid the violation that was basically his entire being. He had no sense of boundaries, and didn't respect her wish to be left alone, even when she growled. 

 

    But if it was just her and Michael, she would have been bounding around the kitchen, jumping up on his legs, begging for attention. So, if she was hiding… 

 

    “Hey, you cooking something?”

 

    The lug was here. 

 

    “No, I just wanted some light,” Michael answered, slowly toeing the bedroom door shut. 

 

    “It's sunny outside.”

 

    “I don't… I don't like going outside.”

 

    Gabriel scoffed. 

 

    “See, that's your problem, Mike. You're just not normal. Normal people like exercise and sunlight and social interaction. You like hiding away in your room and playing video games with your lame friend.” 

 

    “Jeremy is not lame,” Michael muttered angrily, making a beeline for the kitchen to get away. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold back a frustrated groan when Gabriel followed. 

 

    “Yeah, he is. Anyone who would willingly hang out with you is lame. Like that punk-ass dog!” His voice raised into a shout, and Michael flinched. He heard a small creak, and saw the bedroom door open, a small muzzle poking through the opening, nose wiggling. 

 

    “Well, speak of the devil,” Gabriel said. “Finally decide to play nice, huh, bitch?”

 

    “Don't call her that,” Michael demanded, watching with a dawning sense of dread as Kiki left the safety of the bedroom and simply stood in the doorway, tail tucked. 

 

    “Aw, it's not like she can understand me.” Gabriel walked over and squatted, putting a hand on Kiki’s soft head. Michael heard the low growl, and started forward, putting out a cautionary hand too late, as Kiki lunged forward and sank her teeth into Gabriel's hand. He roared, and Kiki sank back, ears to her head. Michael saw his brother's hand rise, curled into a fist, and he jumped in between the two, rage flaring in his gut. The next thing he knew, there was a blossoming pain in his jaw, and Kiki was darting around him nervously as heavy footsteps retreated back up the stairs. 

 

    The front door opened then, and Michael could only groan, hand pressed to his jaw. Kiki ran into his line of sight and started licking anxiously at his hand. 

 

    “I'm okay, girl, let me up,” he whispered, as he heard someone call his name and his heart started to pound, because shit, Jeremy couldn't be here, not now. 

 

    Upon hearing his voice, however, Kiki immediately bounded over to greet Jeremy, letting out happy little yips as she danced around his feet before darting back to Michael, who had finally managed to sit up. 

 

    “Michael? Michael! Shit, what happened?” Jeremy cried, helping Michael to his feet. 

 

    “No, no, forget that, Jeremy, what are you doing here?” 

 

    “What am-? Y-you forgot your p-phone.” Jeremy held it out in a shaking hand. 

 

    “Okay, thanks, now you have to go,” Michael insisted, grabbing hold of Jeremy's arm to pull him away. Jeremy yanked his arm out of Michael's grasp. 

 

    “No! Michael, what the /hell/? You look like you just got punched, I come in here and find you on the floor, and you're trying to tell me to leave?” Jeremy shook his head.

 

    “Jeremy, please, just come with me, I'll explain,” Michael pleaded, shooting a quick glance towards the stairs. Something about his urgent tone must have convinced Jeremy, because he nodded and followed Michael to his car, then folded his arms and watched Michael expectantly.

 

    “I-I, um, I did something stupid,” Michael said, looking away. He couldn't stand Jeremy's patient, concerned gaze. “I was trying to stop him from hitting the dog.”

 

    “Kiki? But she always hides when he's-”

 

    “She came out. I don't know why, but she did, and it happened just like it always does. He was going to punch her, Jere, his hand was in a fist, and she's a small dog. So I stepped in front of her, and he hit me instead.”

 

     Jeremy stared at him, and when Michael looked up, Jeremy grasped his jaw gently and turned his face to see the beginning of a bruise. 

 

    “Jesus Christ,” Jeremy whispered. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, JUSTICE!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait. I did plan to get this chapter out sooner, but life and school and stress got in the way. Still, here it is. I don't think any warnings apply, but be careful anyway.
> 
> And thank you so much to everyone who has commented, bookmarked, or left kudos. Especially to the people who take the time to leave me a comment on my Tumblr. Reading your comments makes me so happy! And, like, holy shit??? I don't know how this got so much attention?

“No.”

 

    “Michael, you have to tell somebody! He physically assaulted you!”

 

    “No! Jeremy, please. One punch barely qualifies as assault.”

 

    “It- yes, Michael! Yes, yes it does! I don't understand why-” Jeremy's voice failed him. He simply sat, fingers trembling where they still held Michael's jaw. Warm hands enveloped his, but they couldn't distract him as they usually did. 

 

    “Please, tell someone,” he whispered, trying to convey everything he couldn't manage to push past his lips in his gaze. “I don't want you to get hurt again.” 

 

    He didn't think he imagined the way that Michael's eyes softened, or the momentary squeeze to his hands. 

 

    “I won't, Jeremy. This,” he gestured to the bruise, “was my fault, anyway. I shouldn't have done what I did.” 

 

    “No, /he/ should learn to control himself,” Jeremy snarled, leaning forward, almost involuntarily. The console dug into his stomach, but he didn't care enough to notice. “Don't you blame yourself for this, Michael Mell.”

 

    “Jere-”

 

    “No! You don't deserve the way that he treats you, and he's clearly escalating. For fuck’s sake, Micah, you have a giant bruise on your jaw, I found you on the floor, and you're talking like everything is fine.”

 

    “Everything /is/ fine, Jeremy.”

 

    “Yeah? Well, what are you going to say, if you're so against ratting out the rat, when your moms ask you why it looks like you got beat up by a shitty mugger?”

 

    Michael froze, and his jaw worked, but no words came out. Clearly, he hadn't considered the fact that the bruise was clearly visible, too high up to be hidden by a scarf or a high-riding hood. Now that it had more color, it stood out horribly on his jawline. 

 

    “Michael, please. If you don't tell them, he's just going to keep doing this,” Jeremy pleaded. “And I don't want you to get hurt. I'll even go with you to tell them if you want. We can sit up in your room until they get home.”

 

    “I… I just want it to stop,” Michael whispered. “I was so happy when he went to college, I thought it was finally over. But he kept coming back. I couldn't get away.” He looked away, and Jeremy pretended not to notice when he swiped at his eyes. 

 

    “I guess I just-” Michael had to stop for a moment. “-I just got so used to it, to him always being there, always being a threat, that I assumed he always would be.”

 

    “He doesn't have to be, though,” Jeremy said softly, taking one of Michael's hands in his, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles soothingly. “He's not forever.” 

 

    They sat there like that for a few minutes as Michael worked through that, tried, failed to come up with some excuse. He couldn't find one that wasn't fear. 

 

    “Okay,” he finally said, voice whisper soft. “Okay.”

 

    They left the car and headed upstairs, treading silently past Gabriel's room with Jeremy's arm wrapped protectively around his friend's shoulder. 

 

    When they reached his bedroom, Michael pulled Jeremy into his bed and wrapped his arms around him, pulling the covers up over them. Jeremy could feel slow tears dropping onto his neck thanks to the proximity and strange angle, and he tightened his embrace. 

 

    “J-Jeremy?” 

 

    “Yeah?”

 

    “C-could you k-kiss me?”

 

    Jeremy had to freeze for a minute before the rusty gears in his brain kicked in, and he realized what Michael probably meant. He /had/ been kissing his friend all week, it had probably just become another form of comfort. 

 

    “Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” he answered with a small smile, pressing his lips to Michael's temple. He couldn't help but linger, wishing that Michael could somehow feel how much Jeremy loved him through that one point of contact. 

 

    Michael sighed, and some of the tension seemed to leak out of him, though he was still sniffling quietly. 

 

    “T-thanks.” He still sounded so despondent, and Jeremy swallowed hard before he leaned down, guiding Michael's face up gently with a hand under his chin. Slowly, he moved closer, and he thought he heard Michael's breath hitch just before his lips connected with Michael's nose. 

 

    “I-I kind of lost count of how many kisses we were at,” Jeremy admitted softly, blushing. 

 

    “Fifty-four,” Michael answered, without missing a beat as he ducked his head back into Jeremy's chest. Jeremy probably just imagined the tiny quiver in his voice. Right?

 

    Distantly, they heard a door shutting, and Kiki’s excited barking and whining. 

 

    “Mom or Ina must be home,” Michael whispered, and no, Jeremy was not imagining anything. His friend's voice was really trembling, and when Michael sat up, there was a pained look on his face, and he held out his hand. Jeremy took it, and the entire short trip down the stairs, Michael squeezed it like a lifeline. 

 

    Both of Michael's moms were in the kitchen when they got downstairs, bustling around, fixing dinner. Ina gave them a quick, rudimentary glance over her shoulder and a smile.

 

    “Well, hello, Jeremy, Mi- wait!” She spun around, still clutching the knife that she had been cutting peppers with. Michael flinched, and Jeremy squeezed his hand in silent support. 

 

    “Lynn! Michael, honey, what happened?” Ina cried, rushing over to the sink to throw the knife in and wash her hands quickly. Michael's mom turned too, when Ina called her name, and she froze when at the sight of the bruise. 

 

    “It… it was-” Michael was too tense. His eyes were darting back and forth between his mothers’ twin expressions of concern, but Jeremy knew how anxiety could twist a face. Slowly, he rubbed the back of Michael's hand with his thumb, hoping that it might be enough to get him talking. 

 

    “It was Gabriel!” came bursting from Michael's lips, and as soon as the words were out, he shrank back as though he expected to be hit. Jeremy caught him before he could flee completely and pulled him to his side. 

 

    “It's okay,” he whispered, and Michael just nodded, eyes fixed miserably on his feet. 

 

    His moms, however, looked like they had been hit by a truck. Ina had a hand clasped over her mouth, and her face looked pale. Lynn had a hand on her wife’s shoulder, but her eyes were blown wide, and she seemed to be trembling. Still, she found her voice first.

 

    “Micah, why don't we go into the living room? I think… I'm sorry, I think we need to talk.” 

 

    Michael didn't move. It didn't look like he could. 

 

    “Hey, Mikey, they're not upset with you,” Jeremy murmured, grasping Michael's arm loosely with his free hand. “They're your parents. They love you, and they want to help, y'know?” 

 

    Slowly, Michael nodded and raised his head. Ina took one hesitant step forward, and then seemed to fly the rest of the way, throwing her arms around Michael. Jeremy wanted to back away and give them space, but Michael refused to let go of his hand. 

 

****

 

    An hour later, Michael and Jeremy sat upstairs, listening to Michael's moms yell at Gabriel through the floor. 

 

   “You let your anger ride you, and you do nothing to rein it in! Look at what you did to your brother!” Lynn's cold cries reached them, and Jeremy put his arm around Michael's waist. 

 

    “It was an accident!” was Gabriel's weak excuse. 

 

    “It was /not/, young man, and don't try to fool me into believing that it was. Kiki avoids you for a reason, and apparently, a damn good one,” Ina shot back. “Your mother and I will offer one last time to pay for therapy, to help you get better.”

 

    “And if I say no?” Gabriel shot back haughtily. Michael stiffened, and Jeremy saw that he was clenching his fists. 

 

    “Then, you will no longer be welcome here.” Ina's voice was as hard and cold as her wife’s, and Michael let out a shaky breath. Jeremy hugged him. 

 

    “What? But- but I'm your son!”

 

    “Yes, you are. And you always will be. But so is Michael, and his safety has to be our first priority,” Lynn answered. “And it has become clear that while you're here, he is not safe.”

  
    Jeremy felt a head leaning onto his shoulder, and he tilted his own to kiss Michael's forehead tenderly. Michael's eyes fluttered shut, and then Jeremy felt soft lips brush against his neck. He exhaled softly, suddenly, but Michael just snuggled closer as Gabriel huffed on the floor below. Jeremy turned so he could put his arms around Michael with more ease, and he was more than a little proud of the fact that Michael didn't even flinch when the door slammed shut downstairs. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I kind of love and hate this chapter at the same time?
> 
> Warning for short panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically the last chapter, but there will be an epilogue posted, probably either tonight or tomorrow.
> 
> I also saved some stuff that didn't make the cut, if you guys would want to read it? Let me know in the comments, and if you like the idea, I'll post cut content with the epilogue.

    Gabriel was gone. He was really gone, and not coming back anytime soon, Michael's moms had assured him. He was gone, and Michael should have been happy. 

 

    Michael wasn't happy. 

 

    Yes, he had finally escaped from his brother's terrifying glare and insults, but he couldn't kick his feelings out the door in the same way. 

 

    He had already suspected, but the past week had just solidified the knowledge in his mind. Michael was in love with Jeremy Heere. 

 

    It was an easy role to fall into; the place of the pining best friend. Not like he had to do anything different. Not this week, anyway. But the closer they got to the deadline, the more the anxious pain in his stomach grew, the more his throat closed up and threatened to choke him when he thought about it at night. He had gotten used to the kisses, and the tiny affectionate touches that came with them. The warmth of Jeremy's hand taking his, or brushing against his cheek, taking his chin gently between his fingers. The tiny thrill of their bodies pressing together, Jeremy's side lining up, leaning against his like fire. 

 

    And then there were lazy afternoons like this, sitting in Michael's basement, Wednesday afternoon. They had originally planned to smoke and play Apocalypse of the Damned, but it turned into an entire evening of just smoking, passing a joint back and forth lazily. Jeremy had his head in Michael's lap, eyes closed, lips curved upward in a relaxed smile, and Michael carded his hands through his friend's hair. Normally he would restrain himself, but his inhibitions were muted by the weed. 

 

    “Mm, Micah?” 

 

    Michael looked down to see Jeremy gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes. 

 

    “Yeah, Jere?”

 

    “You should do this more often. It feels nice.” His eyes started to slide shut again, and he didn't get to see Michael's blush until they suddenly popped back open. “Oh! I forgot! I haven't reached my quota for today yet.” He giggled softly. Michael loved that little breathless giggle, but he never got to hear it unless Jeremy was stoned. Jeremy hated it. He said it sounded like a dying cat, wheezing out it's last breath, but Michael thought it was adorable. “Quota. That's kinda funny, don't you think, Mikey? I have a quota for kissing. C'mere.”

 

    A hand grasped the neck of Michael’s hoodie and pulled him down, where Jeremy's lips graced his cheek, his jaw, then his neck, and Michael felt his bones liquidize. 

 

    “How many is that, now?” Jeremy asked, moving his lips against Michael's skin. 

 

    “Eighty-f-five,” Michael stuttered, shivering. “You're ahead of where you need to be.”

 

    “Hmm.” Jeremy kissed his neck again. “How many now?”

 

    “Eighty-six.” /Only fourteen left/. 

 

    Another kiss. “Now?”

 

    “Eighty-seven. Jere…” 

 

    “No, no, come on, Micah, I want to see the look on Rich’s face when I finish his stupid bet ahead of time.” Two more kisses to his neck, ascending, one to his jaw. 

 

    “Ninety,” Michael said in a whisper. Ninety. His time was even shorter now. Even if Jeremy left it alone now, he only had one day left. 

 

    But Jeremy wasn't leaving it alone. 

 

    He pressed two more kisses to Michael's jaw, three to his cheek, two more to his nose. 

 

    “N-ninety-seven,” Michael got out, feeling his throat tighten. 

 

    One soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, another with a bit more strength behind it. 

 

    “Jeremy,” Michael said, not sure if he was pleading for more, or for Jeremy to stop. 

    “Michael?” Jeremy sounded concerned, and Michael knew what he had been pleading for. Both. He wanted both. He wanted Jeremy to stop, because he wanted this to last forever. He didn't want to need an excuse for Jeremy to lay a soft kiss on his hand before class, or press a firm one to his cheek in the car. He didn't want a deadline, or a quota. He wanted to stop counting kisses. 

 

    But he couldn't tell Jeremy that. 

 

    “I-I need to go to the bathroom.”

 

    “Oh. Okay.” Jeremy got up, and Michael tried not to stumble on his way, forcing himself to walk as casually as he was able. 

 

    Once there, he couldn't stop the horrible sob that wrenched itself from his throat. 

 

    “Oh, God,” he choked out, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks. “What's wrong with me?” 

 

    /I guess I did end up crying in a bathroom. Who knew you were psychic, Jere?/ he thought. The laugh that tore from his throat sounded strangled. 

 

    “Calm down, calm down, calm the fuck down,” he hissed, pushing up his hoodie sleeves to dig his nails into his arms. “Just breathe, he's still out there, he's going to start worrying, just calm down.” 

 

    He tried to regulate his breathing; in and out, in and out, picture the air flowing in, flowing out, lungs expanding and compressing, pushing the air in and out, and start the cycle over again. He had actually managed to fall into a rhythm.

 

    And then there was a timid knock at the door.

 

    “Michael? Are you okay?” Jeremy asked. His voice sounded small, distant through the door, and it had lost its relaxed slur.

 

    “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Jere!” Michael called as his breath hitched again, started to lose his hard-won pattern. 

 

    “You don't sound fine. C-can I come in?”

 

    Nonononononono-

 

    “Yeah, sure.” 

 

    The door pushed open, and Michael averted his eyes, fixating on the crumbling grout of the bathtub. 

 

    “Micah…” Warm arms encircled him from behind, and he felt Jeremy's chin settle on his shoulder. “Hey, it's okay, breathe with me, buddy.”

 

    Michael obeyed, letting himself fall easily into the rhythm that he felt on his back as Jeremy inhaled and exhaled. As soon as his breathing had evened out, he felt Jeremy gently take his hand, thumb rubbing soothing patterns across his knuckles. 

 

    “Micah, can you tell me what's wrong?” Jeremy asked quietly. 

 

    “I-I…” he couldn't get the words out, couldn't find the courage. 

 

    “Hey, hey, it's okay,” Jeremy whispered, then, remembering how Michael had asked for a kiss over the weekend, he gently kissed his friend's cheek. 

 

    He wasn't expecting Michael to start crying. 

 

    “One hundred. G-god,” Michael sobbed. He couldn't do it now. It was over. Really over. 

 

    “Michael?” 

 

    “I-it's over. I can't-” His shoulders shook. 

 

    Jeremy thought he was starting to get it.

 

    “Mikey, c'mere.” He shifted, moving to sit on his knees in front of his friend. 

 

    Michael almost started sobbing harder when Jeremy kissed his forehead. He looked up at his friend with wet eyes, and Jeremy tenderly wiped the tears from his cheeks, pressing kisses to the skin under his touch. 

 

    “Jeremy?” Michael asked in a whisper. 

 

    “Michael… I really hope I'm not reading this wrong,” Jeremy muttered, and then he leaned in, and Michael nearly stopped breathing when he felt Jeremy's lips on his. It was everything that he hadn't even known he wanted until he got it. All the tiny, fleeting kisses, he had savored them, and he had declared himself satisfied, but this… this was something new, something so much better. Jeremy had a hand on his face, cupping his cheek, and his hand was warm, and Michael could feel when the fingers twitched anxiously. Jeremy's other hand was still holding his, and Michael tightened his grip as he surged forward and wrapped his other arm around Jeremy's waist. Jeremy managed to pull back long enough to squeak in surprise before their lips crashed back together, and Jeremy toppled backward, pulling Michael with him. 

  
    When they broke apart for air, they stared at each other for a few minutes, eyes wide. Then, Michael snorted, and they both fell into laughter, bodies tangled together on the bathroom floor. 


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shortest epilogue ever...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented, bookmarked, or left kudos! I appreciate the support. 
> 
> Also, I will post one more chapter of CUT CONTENT.

The next day they walked into the cafeteria holding hands. Rich was already sitting at the table, knawing absently on a bagel, but he set it down when they walked up and raised an eyebrow. 

 

    Jeremy smirked at him, and then turned and kissed Michael fully on the lips. Rich whooped. 

 

    “Yes! That's what I'm talking about, tall ass!” he cheered. 

 

    “You look pretty happy for somebody who just lost fifty bucks,” Michael remarked when they separated. 

 

    “Are you kidding? I'm fucking ecstatic! The entire point of this bet was to get you two together. I mean, Jesus, it took you long enough,” Rich berated, grinning despite his tone. 

 

    “Wha-? Well, what were you gonna do if we didn't get together before the two weeks were up?” Jeremy stammered, sitting down. Michael sat next to him.

 

    “I had a fallback plan, duh. I was going to lock you both in the janitor’s closet until you worked it out.”

 

    Michael started laughing.

 

    “That's not a plan! That's just… it's… I can't think of the world, but it's just aggression!” Jeremy replied.

 

    Rich shrugged. 

 

    “I never said it was a good plan. Just be glad I didn't have to resort to my Plan C.”

 

    “What was your Plan C?” Michael asked cautiously.

 

    “Me and Jake were going to force your faces together,” Rich replied easily. Michael broke into laughter again while Jeremy spluttered indignantly. 

 

    “No, no, forget the backup plan, /that/ is aggression,” Jeremy said, but he was grinning. Michael leaned into his now-boyfriend’s side and smiled when Jeremy pressed a soft kiss to his temple. 

 

    “How many kisses does that make?” Jeremy asked quietly.

 

    Michael smiled.

  
    “I stopped counting.” 


	8. Cut Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the stuff that didn't meet the grade. Keep in mind, I kept most of this out for a reason, either because I thought my writing was getting wonky, or because I didn't think it could work in the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes are in bold.
> 
> AAAAHH I forgot the warnings, sorry! Mentions of abuse, and homophobic slurs.

**I started this story two times, and eventually decided to merge the two starters together.**

 

It started off as a stupid bribe from Rich. Fifty dollars if Jeremy could kiss Michael one hundred times in a span of two weeks.

 

“I bet you'll chicken out by day three,” Rich had goaded, smug smirk fixed on his face. And, well, Jeremy didn't do well with taunting.

 

“You're on,” he had declared, grinning as he stuck his hand out to shake. “Better get that fifty bucks together.”

 

“I won't need to, tall-ass,” Rich had replied.

 

They didn't even tell Michael about it until Jeremy plopped down next to him at lunch, took his friend's face in his hands, and leaned down to kiss the shorter boy's forehead.

 

“W-what the fuck- J-Jere, why-” Michael stammered, wide eyes darting back and forth as he tried to find a focus point that wasn't Jeremy's flushed face.

 

“I have a bet with Rich,” Jeremy said simply, as if that explained everything. “I'm, uh, probably going to be doing that a lot for the next two weeks.”

 

Michael's jaw dropped open, and he was almost grateful when Rich’s voice called Jeremy's attention away from his budding blush, until he heard what Rich was saying.

 

“No, I don't think so, Jeremy. You can't just spend the whole two weeks kissing his forehead, that's basically cheating. Have some variety, for fuck’s sake.”

 

“Well where do you suggest I kiss, then?” Jeremy asked, irritated. He seemed to have forgotten that he was still holding Michael's face in his hands.

 

“Hmm, well you could go for the cheek, or the nose. I'll allow you some hand kisses, for the sake of differentiating. Of course, you could always take the lips, too… or the neck if you're feeling brave.”

 

Jesus Christ, this was not happening. Michael could feel his pining, gay soul screaming as his best friend turned back towards him, apparently contemplating Rich's suggestions.

 

“Good point, but I think we'd both be a little uncomfortable with that,” Jeremy finally said, releasing Michael. “Honestly, this is probably pushing it already.” That said, he took one of Michael's hands and raised it to his lips anyway.

 

Michael was pretty sure he wasn't going to survive two weeks. The only question was whether his head or his heart would be the first to blow. Because he was sitting, feeling the echo of his best friend's lips on his skin, and he had wanted this for so long, but Jeremy wasn't kissing him because he wanted him. He wasn't doing it out of love or even affection. He was doing it for fifty dollars and the satisfaction of beating Rich.

 

**My notes to myself after re-reading this start:**

 

Bitch what

 

Okay we're starting over bc SOMEONE can't write today

 

 **The second** **starter**

 

Warm hands cup his cheeks, and he doesn't even manage to raise his eyebrows before soft lips connect with his forehead, and his brain short-circuits. He freezes, and he knows, he just /knows/ that he's blushing, and Jeremy will see, he'll figure it out-

 

But Jeremy isn't looking at him. Jeremy is looking at Rich, and their lips are moving- God he knows what Jeremy's lips feel like now- and Rich is shaking in what Michael figures must be laughter, but he can't be sure when he can barely even feel the ground beneath his feet. It's like he's floating, and Jeremy's hands are the only thing keeping him on the ground.

 

“-chael. Michael? Hey, you okay?” Oh, Jeremy is looking at him again, he's speaking, and Michael is relieved to find that he can tune in long enough to catch the tail end of Jeremy's concern.

 

“Y-yeah, I'm fine, Jere.” Sweet Jesus, there has never been a worse time for his voice to crack. “You just took me by surprise. Um… can I ask-” _what the fuck just happened_ “-why exactly did you do that?”

 

Jeremy shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. Michael can only stare at him and try to regulate his breathing, extremely aware of the hands still cradling his face.

 

“Sorry about that. Rich and I have a bet-”

 

“That I'm totally going to win!”

 

“No, you're fucking _not_ ,” Jeremy shoots back, grinning. “He bet fifty bucks that I couldn't kiss you one hundred times in two weeks. Normally, I wouldn't take it, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Rich's face when he loses.”

 

“Ah, so sad for you then, Jeremiah, that you shall never see that opportunity come to fruition,” Rich comments, smirking at them. “All you'll see is my ass wagging in your face.”

 

“Right, like you could find a stepladder tall enough!”

 

Michael snickers, and the two of them dissolve into laughter, Jeremy's hands sinking to Michael's shoulders as they fall onto each other, Michael hooking an arm around Jeremy's waist.

 

“Oh, hardy har har,” Rich says, struggling to keep a stern face. “Laugh it up, boyfs.”

 

They're still coming down from their giggling fit when the bell rings, and Michael jumps a little when he feels lips on his cheek.

 

“S-sorry, I shouldn't have sprung t-that on you,” Jeremy stutters, but fuck knows that Michael doesn't really mind. Honestly, this bet sounds like a dream come true, as long as he doesn't think about-

 

_it's only temporary just two weeks and then you're right back to where you started right back to unrequited pining_

 

-his feeling and let them get in the way.

 

They all get up and walk together as far as they can before different classes call for separation. Michael pretends that his heart doesn't leap at the chaste parting kiss that Jeremy brushes onto his knuckles.

 

**I'm not quite sure why I went from past to present tense, but when I merged the two together I realized that I had two conflicting tenses and I just *ugh* haha**

 

**This was originally going to be Chapter 2, but after I wrote it I didn't know where I could go afterwards. I did want to include it, because I kind of loved the humor that I fit into it, but it wouldn't have worked**

 

“Michael!”

    Michael whirled around, eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, but he relaxed as soon as he saw Jeremy squeezing through the crowded hallway to get to his locker.

    “Hey, Jere. You look tired.”

    “You're one to talk, Michael. You look like ass. Did you even sleep at all last night?”

    “Well…” Michael shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. Jeremy frowned. “No, okay, I didn't, but let's talk about it later. I have a test first period, and if I'm late Simmons’ll hand my ass to me on a silver platter.”

    “Yeah, right, dude. He wouldn't bother with silver, he'd just use one of the cafeteria trays.”

    “True,” Michael sighed in mock sadness, and they picked up the pace. “Shame, my ass would look spectacular on a silver platter.”

    Jeremy laughed and slowed as they neared his first period.

    “Oh! Wait!” He grabbed Michael's arm, pulled him closer, and kissed his cheek quickly before shoving him away. “Okay, good, now get to class!”

    “Jeremy you sap,” Michael teased over his shoulder as he sprinted away, hoping that for once, just once, the universe would spare him.

*****

    “We live on a cold, uncaring planet,” Michael complained, shoving his tardy slip at Jeremy as his friend sat down. “I came in a minute after the bell rang, and you know what? I might have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for fucking Madeline.”

    Jeremy laughed, giving the cafeteria a quick scan for the girl mentioned.

    “What did she do?”

    “She stared straight at me, and I kid you not, I /saw/ hell, Jeremy. It lives in her. She put her hand up and said,” Michael coughed and raised his voice an octave, “‘Mr. Simmons, Michael was late. You should give him a slip.’”

    “Holy shit,” Jeremy choked out, shoulders shaking as he chuckled. Michael almost didn't notice when the fidgeting wonder took one of his hands and transferred it to his own lap. “What did you do?”

    “What /could/ I do? I was standing there, caught in hell’s stare, with the added pressure of half the class, and Mr. Simmons, too. It's not like there's an instruction booklet for those kinds of situations. So, I just kind of slunk to my seat and waited for death to take me.”

    “Wait, death is taking passengers?” Rich nearly yelled, slamming his hands down on the table beside them as he took his seat. “Sign me the fuck up!”

 

**(ME TOO, RICH)**

    “Sorry, bro, it's invitation only. You wouldn't want to come, anyway, it's a long trip, and death’s sedan is pretty shitty,” Michael replied. Jeremy chuckled again and raised Michael's hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles, the back, then pushed back the sleeve before Michael could stop him and froze, horror and rage warring for dominance in his expression. He raised his eyes to meet Michael's and stood up without a word, dragging Michael up and out of the cafeteria just as Christine was arriving at the table.

    “Hey, guys! Uh, okay, bye guys,” she chirped, confused, as they passed her.

    Jeremy dragged Michael to the closest bathroom and almost shoved him up against the wall, holding up the offending wrist for him to see, as if he hadn't stayed up staring at it all night.

    A pale purple and red handprint shone dimly in the fluorescent lights, the skin slightly puffy.

    “What the /fuck/ happened, Michael? Did- did he do this to you? Gabriel?” Jeremy asked, voice cracking. “He did, didn't he? After I left?”

    Michael nodded, and Jeremy shook his head as if he could invalidate the truth of the statement if he just denied it enough.

    “He… he lost his temper, I think, because of how I reacted when he walked in on us. And because Kiki tried to bite him again after dinner. He has a short temper. He was- he was gonna hit her, Jere, he had his fist raised, and he looked so mad, he looked like he was past rational thought, so I just… I tried to stop him, I pushed him away and he grabbed my wrist. It hurt, it really did, but I honestly didn't care, I just wasn't going to let him hurt her.”

    “God, Michael…”

    “I don't regret it. She's a small dog, Jeremy, and he's too strong. If he punched her, he'd probably kill her.”

    “God… where were your moms? You can't tell me that they just let this happen?” Jeremy asked, incredulous.

    “Mom was in the laundry room. Ina was- ha- she was getting Kiki her dinner.”

    “Why didn't you tell them?”

    “Jeremy, come on. Don't you think I would if I didn't know that it would just make things worse? They can't do anything, Jere, they can't control him. Even if they manage to rein him in for a day or two, it's back to square one as soon as the leash runs out. Besides, it's just for two weeks. Then he'll be gone again.”

    “But he'll be back,” Jeremy argued, slipping his hand into Michael's, interlacing their fingers. “You said it yourself, he doesn't have an apartment anymore so he crashes at your place on his breaks.”

    “I know!” Michael cried, a sudden, helpless anger in his tone. “I know, but there's nothing I can do about it.”

    “There is one thing,” Jeremy said, hard voice shaking. Michael wasn't even sure if he was aware that he was doing it, but Jeremy raised their joined hands and pressed and held Michael's against his lips as he deliberated. Finally he seemed to reach a conclusion and the hands were lowered again.

    “If he does something like this again, you should call the police, or child protection or something,” he said. “Because this is abuse, Michael, physical abuse, and he shouldn't be allowed to treat you like that. He shouldn't be allowed to treat anyone like that. And quite honestly, if he loses his shit over a dog bite, he should be in anger management classes.”

    “I know, I just-”

    “Hey, losers, you two make a habit of being gay in the bathroom?” The taunt cut Michael off, and Jeremy flushed, dropping Michael's hands as though they were burning. Dustin Kropp leered at them from the doorway.

    “Nope, actually, we were just leaving,” Michael started, frantically pushing his sleeve back down. He tried to move away, putting a hand on Jeremy's shoulder to pull him along, but Jeremy didn't budge.

    “It's not like there's anything wrong with being gay,” Jeremy said, so softly that at first Michael wasn't even sure he had spoken. “Maybe you're just jealous.”

    Then Jeremy was moving closer, leaning in, kissing Michael's cheek. Michael nearly squeaked.

    “Jealous? Yeah, right. Get out of my way, you fags,” Dustin sneered, shoving them roughly to the side.

    “The fuck did you just say?!”

    “Jeremy!” Michael grabbed him tightly and actually had to drag him away seething. Normally Jeremy picked flight over fight, but he looked about ready to kick Dustin’s balls in. “Jeremy, calm down! He's just an asshole.”

    “One of too many!” Jeremy fumed, finally mellowing out enough to let Michael guide him back to the cafeteria. “I just… I hate that you have to put up with shit like that here, too. I hate that nearly everyone in this school is an ignorant, intolerant idiot.”

    “Oh, are we talking about civil rights issues?” Christine asked, cutting in as they sat down. “Because I agree with you, Jeremy. No one should have to deal with this kind of oppressive environment. I mean, it's gotten a little better since Jake came out as pansexual, and Chloe and Brooke started dating, but there is still too much room for improvement.”

    “Look, you guys are right, but there's nothing we can do about it. The smartest strategy is just avoiding trouble,” Michael said, frowning as he gripped Jeremy's shoulders. “Standing up to them isn't going to get you anything but a broken nose. Maybe worse.”

    “Well what am I supposed to do, just let people insult my friends?” Jeremy shot back.

    “Yes! Jeremy, I don't care what they say about me. I care about /you/. If you start a fight with one of those idiots, you're going to come out hurting on the other side.”

    Jeremy bit his bottom lip, hard, and he looked like he wanted to argue further, but Michael shook his head and pulled Jeremy to him. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, and if the way Jeremy let himself relax was any indication, he could tell. Two soft kisses found his cheek, and the conversation was let go.

****

    “We're going to yours tonight,” Michael said, fiddling with his flip phone as Jeremy climbed into the car. “Okay?”

    “Okay,” Jeremy replied. “You can spend the night if you want.”

    “Yeah. Let me text my moms real quick.”

    Michael tapped out a quick message, then absently tossed his phone into the cup holder and hit the road. He could feel Jeremy's eyes on him as he drove, and shifted uncomfortably.

    As soon as they reached Jeremy's house, Jeremy rounded the car and kissed Michael's forehead when he got out, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy. Michael couldn't stop himself from sighing, tension slowly draining from his shoulders.

    “Thanks, Jere. Now, c'mon, I want to beat your ass at Mario Kart.”

    They climbed the stairs, Jeremy shouted a quick greeting to his dad, and then they settled shoulder to shoulder on the edge of Jeremy's bed, clutching their respective controllers.

    “So, Player One, usual bet?” Jeremy asked, grinning. Michael smirked back. Every time they played Mario Kart they made the same bet. Whoever was on the losing team had to think up some grand gesture for the winner before the end of the night.

    “You're on, Peach.”

    “Oh, like you wouldn't pick Peach if I didn't have her claimed, Mr. Inconsistency.”

    “Hey, don't knock my style. I don't like being pinned down to any particular character. Love without commitment, baby,” Michael fired back smoothly, sticking out his tongue as he mused over the character selection. Jeremy had already chosen Peach, and she bounced in the bottom corner as his digital hand rolled over the different choices.

    “Any time,” Jeremy teased.

    “Hush, Jere, don't rush the master.” Still, he eventually let his selector settle over Mario.

    “Alright.” Jeremy grinned. “It's my turn to pick the track.”

     Michael groaned, but he couldn't argue. He had indeed chosen last time, foolishly deciding that he was good enough to tackle the Special Cup. He died ten times on the Rainbow Road alone, and ended up making waffles at midnight, which Jeremy eventually deemed “grand” enough.

    Jeremy, however, knew how to make the Rainbow Road his bitch. Because the dedication that he could never direct into his schoolwork went into video games. He could spend weeks on end mastering one level. His patience was unmatched, and always yielded results. In the case of this particular track, he had sat himself down and played that one road over and over and over, day after day, for the first five weeks of summer vacation. He knew every twist, every turn, where to slow down and where to speed up. He knew the track so well, and could drive it so skillfully that he was listed on the global leaderboard, a fact that he was eternally proud of.

    So Michael sighed and prepared himself for death and defeat. But Jeremy didn't pick the Special Cup. He let his cursor hover over and eventually select the Lightning Cup, Michael's favorite, Jeremy's least.

    The race started before Michael could think of anything to say.

    They teased each other as they raced, like normal. Michael let Jeremy know, “You take the corners too fast, and you don't turn enough. That's why you keep crashing into the walls. And you have to remember to look out for the oil spills!”

    Michael ending up crossing the finish line in second, fuming and cursing Yoshi with a vengeance. Jeremy came in tenth.

    The final scores turned out: Michael in first, Yoshi (“the little shit”) in fifth, Jeremy in seventh. Michael whooped and threw his arms into the air, controller dropping off of his lap onto the floor.

    “Bow down to the champion!” he yelled. Jeremy laughed, letting himself fall back onto the bed.

    “Hey, champion, your phone's ringing,” Jeremy said, tossing the phone to Michael, who looked at the called ID, bit his lip, and answered, huffing out a cold, “What?”

    Jeremy sat up and watched Michael's face harden, his free hand fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

    “No, I'm not coming home, I told Ina that I was going to stay at Jeremy's, and she said it was fine- don't you say that about him- no! Look, just let me- shut up and let me talk! You are not Mom, you are not Ina. You have no authority over me, I don't have to do what you say. Yeah, I know I'm dead as soon as I step in that door, but I'm not stepping in tonight.”

    Michael snapped his phone shut, let out a harsh breath, and then flung it at the wall with an angry screech.

    “You okay?” Jeremy asked tentatively, holding out an arm. Michael shook his head wordlessly and sat beside his friend, leaning into the taller boy's side.

    “I am so dead,” Michael whispered helplessly, staring blankly at the wall. “So, so dead.”

    “Why, what did he say?”

    “He told me to come ho-home,” Michael started, growling when his breath hitched, “because Mom and Ina had decided to go out to dinner, and left him in charge, and he didn't want me staying over h-here.”

    Jeremy put his arm around his friend's shoulder and pulled him closer, hoping the proximity would be comforting.

    “Well, you heard what I said, and he- he said that Mom and Ina aren't going to be home tomorrow, either, because they both have meetings in the afternoon. That's all he said before I hung up, but… I'm scared, Jeremy. After yesterday, I don't know if he has boundaries anymore.”

    “You can stay over again,” Jeremy suggested, but Michael was shaking his head before the last word even left his mouth.

    “I can't leave Kiki alone with him.”

    “I-I could stay with you?”

    “No!” Michael cried, jerking away. “No. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but… no.”

    “Okay,” Jeremy replied quietly, trying to tamp down the hurt that flared up at Michael's quick dismissal.

    “No, Jere, I didn't mean it like that.” Michael knew him too well. “It's just, even if he did let you stay-”

    “Michael, really, it's okay. You don't have to explain yourself to me,” Jeremy assured him. “Just… if anything does happen, promise me that you'll think of your safety first?”

 

**This... was never going to make the cut anyway, I just wanted to write it. So I did. And then I kept it on the document because I'm trash. This was when they were talking about the bruise on Michael's jaw. I forget if I deleted the line in the final cut, but Michael suggested that he could pass it off as a hickey, and, um...**

 

“Micah, the only way you'd be able to pass that off as a hickey would be if you had more than one.”

    Michael slowly raised his head and met Jeremy's eyes. Jeremy knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

    “No, Michael!” he cried, trying to ignore his flaming face.

    “Why not? You've been kissing me all week, why is this any different?” Michael's eyes looked hard, and his jaw was set. He looked determined, and Jeremy swallowed hard. It wasn't like he would /mind/… but…

    “No.”

    “Jeremy, please,”  Michael pleaded, and that tone of voice wasn't fair. He somehow managed to sound helpless and desperate and still /adorable/ at the same time. Jeremy didn't stand a chance.

    “I… okay.”

    Sweet Jesus.

    Michael's lips broke into a relieved smile, and he leaned forward, offering his neck to Jeremy like a sacrifice. This was not how Jeremy had envisioned this happening.  Not that he had ever envisioned this at all (or pretty much every night while he was trying to get to sleep).

    “I-I'm sorry, I can't do this, it's too…” Too intimate, too much, and not enough.

    “Hey,” Michael said softly, pulling away again. “It's fine, I get it. It's too weird.”

    No. It was just something that Jeremy had been thinking about for a long time now, something that he had been wanting to do for months. But he couldn't tell Michael that.

    So, instead he nodded miserably and wondered if he was just imagining the slight disappointment on Michael's face.

 

**Okay, so it's probably wildly out of character but just imagine Michael asking Jeremy to give him a hickey. I M a G i N e  t H e  a W k w A r D n E s S**

 

**Well, thank you again for reading, and I hope you have a great day!**

 

**Also... how would you feel about a fairy tale AU? Because I've got some ideas...**

 

**Edit: Fairy tale AU has been posted!**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I figuratively live for kudos and comments. And come yell at me on Tumblr! I'm amber-angel.


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